


Whiskey Sour

by romanticalgirl



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4356698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's got a bottle in front of him and something that isn't a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Sour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feveredpitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feveredpitch/gifts).



> ♥ ♥ ♥

There’s a bottle of whiskey on the porch railing, and Mickey’s been watching it for a few hours to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere. The temptation to take a drink is strong, but he’s stronger. 

He thinks. 

Maybe.

Ian shows up eventually, looking tired. He always looks tired nowadays. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“You ready?”

“Sure.” Mickey shoves the pint in his back pocket and walks down the steps. “I can’t believe I’m letting you drag me to this.”

“It could be worse.” 

“How?” 

“We could be going to see Ant-Man.” 

“Okay. Fair enough. I’m going to have to finish this bottle before it starts though. I’m just warning you.” 

“Don’t worry. I’m used to getting your drunk ass home.”

“Fuck you, asshole. You’re the one usually over my shoulder because you’re stupidly tall and bendy.” He can see that Ian wants to say something, but it’s something dangerous, and they’re careful about that. 

They’re trying?

He thinks they’re trying. 

He thinks they’re being friends, because Ian needs a friend and Mickey needs Ian. It’s unfair and uneven and the whiskey isn’t just to sit through Ted 2. It’s to sit next to Ian and pretend. Pretend he doesn’t miss him.

Pretend it doesn’t hurt. 

It does though. But they’re talking. They’re hanging out. And, except for not fucking, they’re being friends like they sort of were when they worked at the Kash and Grab. Which, really, with a name like that, Kash had no right to think that people wouldn’t fucking steal from him. Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot who used to fuck Ian. 

Mickey wonders if Ian’s fucking anyone these days. They don’t talk about things like that. Mickey doesn’t want to know. 

Not really.

“What about Magic Mike?” 

Ian’s eyebrow goes up. “Seriously?” 

“Hot guys dancing and grinding and shit. How is that not better than a talking teddy bear?” 

Ian tilts his head. “Okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But you have to share the whiskey.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’ll kill my Bomer boner.” 

“Seriously? Bomer? Manganiello. All the way.” 

“Manganiello boner doesn’t sound as good.” 

“Who cares how it sounds? I’d let him pound me like a nail.”

Ian looks at Mickey for a long moment. “He doesn’t strike me as your type.” 

“Don’t have a type.” 

“You totally have a type.” 

“Yeah? What’s that?” 

“Muscled. Tall. Hunky.” 

“How’s that explain you then, beanpole?” 

Mickey regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, but Ian just smiles. “Your taste improved for a while.” 

“Your ego’s as big as your dick.” 

Ian smiles and bumps Mickey’s shoulder with his. “Bigger.” 

“Ha.” Mickey grins at him, because as much as he loves Ian, he can’t help but like him too. “Not possible.”


End file.
